Brice smelled salami and coffee. His stomach rage with hunger. Footsteps came near the door of the bedroom. The bungalow sat off from the trees in the forest. The surroundings had been serene and safe. Then he heard Constance dumping the water pail in the bathroom."Goyo is that you," Constance asked. She emerged from the room with an orange shirt, jeans, and her handgun, laying them down with care on the bed. "You looked like his size."Pulling the jeans on, Brice gave Constance sidelong looks keeping his head straight. Big mistake leaving the bed with the sheets wrinkle, Goyo wasn't right in the head. He had been all emotional. She twisted the door knob when he finished dressing.All three had eyes on each other, Goyo broke the concentration. "Constance displays herself as a victim and you perform as a righteous teacher saving his students." Goyo patted Brice back, smiling. "Why did we come here, Constance?""Don't question me when you can't even kill you mother," Constance said spitting on the floral rug. "Your mind is weak and I know you wouldn't fired the gun.""Nachine was manipulated.""Your brain hasn't gotten to the rinse cycle.""Come on and join me for breakfast," said Goyo approaching Constance. He pecked her on the lips. "You can't replace me or we both die remember." After knocking twice on her head, she slapped his hand away.

Brice felt Constance's delicate hand stroking his chest, her nails became entangled in his hair. Her fingers tugged against his nipples, causing them to protrude between her fingers. Squinting his eyes, he pretended to be asleep. She pressed her naked blossom against him then tapped her nipples against his. Why couldn’t this be Yasmine? He threw her off. She stomped away after getting off the floor.Her body swayed. Brice's eyes focused on her back side. He drifted off into a light and arousing sleep.“Teach,” Constance yelled . Brice blinked his eyes a couple of times breaking eye goop along the eye lids. “It's time for your bath, it has been two days.”Using hot soapy water, she scrubbed his face and head. She raked the shaver across his head and facial stubbles. Warm water wash over his head and chin. She dried his face. He felt the wash cloth all over the top of his shoulder and chest.“Is the water too hot?” Constance asked.“No it's good?” Brice said, bending his knees and half sitting up. Constance had been indescribable. The first woman he couldn't put in a box. She pleasured him. Murder for him without asking for the favorite return. Didn't even want love. Cold heart and strong.The hot water opened his pores up to receiving the cold air. Then she washed off the soap. After straddling herself to his thighs, he penis hardened.Then her vagina swallow it. “Will you be able to walk or I can put you in a roll away chair.”“Where am I?” Brice asked. Constance fixated her eyes on his body’s reactions. She didn't answered him, choosing to continue to satisfy herself. He gripped the bed and glared at her enjoying him. Deciding not to stop her since it gave him time to forget worrying. What if he got arrest at school tomorrow for arson or murder?She had been strong yet Yasmine even grappled during climaxing with him. She dug her nails into his waist; he pumped his thighs up and down. She pounded her thighs and it was over. Brice rolled off the bed and began to balance his bronze body.“I will lather your back up,” Constance said.Brice began to stumble. Constance put her neck under his armpit. He encircled her neck bringing her closer. He took his nipple and brush it a long her check and her hair, flirting a little. He looked into her in eyes to see her response. It was his reminder he needed her skill. She was fine but this woman hadn't been a woman to have sex with. A fighter like her was good for surviving the streets.Constance would be the one to help put Nachine away for good and Jason. The neighborhood would have peace. Killing Nachine became an option.

"Dancing around and shooting," Constance said. "Idiot, I should've shot you." She headed for the back door. Brice sprinted up next to her. Goyo cut them off."I'm sorry for being stupid," Goyo said. "Please forgive me." Outside the three of them ran towards Nachine's home where the fire had smoldered. "You need a ride, losers." He jumped in an ambulance truck then race the engine. "Ask my forgiveness for killing Arcadio."Goyo pushed the passenger door open. Constance ran toward the door and socked him in the face. He rocked himself to recover from it."You need to be punished.""I'll murdered you first," Constance said slamming the door. "Go help the teacher."Brice's mind kept instructing his legs to run. Collapsing near the ambulance truck, his nose smelt a musty scent. He struggled to open his eyes when a hand slapped his face.He loved the scent, he could block out the burning pain that made his body exhausted. With his eyes shut, he drifted off into sleep to forget the pain. Then his body elevated and he was tossed on to a steel floor. After, his ear were alert to a conversation.."Where you get the truck?" Constance asked."I'm returning back to Brazil," Goyo said with his voice cracking up in Brice's head."I'm going back soon, we are almost done," said Constance. "Don't go after my mama."

She did it, Brice thought wiping the gasoline scent off his hands onto Arcadio's shirt. Can't explain the gas to the police, better go.Constance picked up Arcadio's weapon "His gun was emptied like his penis." She threw it where blood had oozed over his nose. A guy with blonde hair and boxy face shifted his teeth back and forth, skipping his way across the room firing his gun. "Goyo stop clowning." She cursed him then he left their sight. Brice took a hit in his side and thigh causing him to fall. Goyo took hold of his clothes, lifting him up."You did this to my family," Goyo said with a threating bat in the other hand. "Die." He hurled Brice's body into a glass chair. Shotgun ammo sprayed the room."Get out here, before we murdered you," the neighbors shouted rushing the house.Brice's body had smashed the chair. He was stretched out in a bed of broken glass and busted cocaine bags. Gunshot flared up again. He was groggy and disoriented. That fool had to be a crazed Bigfoot. He rolled out the glass. Constance's legs crept passed him."Sick heifer," Goyo yelled.

The fire truck arrived and attacked the blaze that attempted to spread to the neighboring homes. Nachine moved to the street where she had been comfort by Zetta. Valerian with his tank top and boxer held the window as Khalilah climbed down the bed sheet she used for a rope dressed only in leather boots. The sheet became a torch when the firefighter grabbed her underneath her breasts, rescuing her from the burning sheet.Valerian motioned for the firefighter to bring the ladder to him. "Don't touch her," he said. Slapping the guy's helmet off, the two men engaged in swinging punches at each other. "Stop hitting me back, save me, my skin getting a frying sensation." Smoke puffed from the window. Brice scanned the street, noticing Arcadio disappeared from it.Good distraction, Brice thought. Yet he knew where to look for him. Valerian so stupid he would fall to his death thinking that guy going to save his life any better after hitting him and Khalilah just as foolish. She couldn't find a towel or something. The neighbors gathered to watch the fight, one with the shotgun moved in front of the crowd."Forget him," he yelled. "Let's kill Arcadio, he shot the kid yesterday." The crowd followed him in a frenzy. Two neighbors bang against Arcadio's door while the other one used his shotgun to break the window.Brice tried to reach the front of the crowd, wanting the first piece of Arcadio. He grunted shoving neighbors. Realizing he wasted his killing energy, he gave up and circled around back. He pulled his gun and cracked the back door, crawling through the trash on the floor. He halted near the living room."I kill you this time, Constance," said Arcadio."Let me get my gun, this one is out of bullets," Arcadio said, throwing his down."Pop. Pop." Thud."His woman killed him," the shotgun neighbor unlock the door. Crowd had been satisfied leaving with grins and cheering their neighbor with the shotgun. Brice got off the floor to check out Arcadio's body. Bullets through the forehead, Brice thought."You can't bring him back," said Constance. "You're staying to be arrested or you're come with me."

"Fire," Zetta yelled, with arms wailing. "Call 911.""I'll call," said Mrs. Anderson. The fire move up the side of the house to the top floor. "Qadira, are you in that house?""Where's the phone at in your house?" Brice asked. He would make the call to avoid Mrs. Anderson from adding the information of who started the fired. Crossing the street, he charged toward Mrs. Anderson's door and twisted the knob. He ransacked the living and dining room found no phone or cord to lead to one. Mrs. Anderson went into the kitchen, opened the oven door. Sliding the roast pan half out with a fork, she examined the meat then push it back into to the oven. Brice closed the oven door. Leaning over her, he noticed the spotless counters and floors. A phone cord ran from a padlock storage cabinet near the stairway to the basement. He yanked the lock."My husband did that for I wouldn't call the police about him cheating. She reached between her breasts and pulled the key out. "He doesn't know I have the second one, he thinks he lost it." She unlocked the door and step back.Does Qadira's father have to go to these extremes to keep their family business quiet? He dialed emergency and returned the receiver to the phone. Finding a good spot at the dining room window, he contemplated whether he should popped Nachine in the face. She emerged from the house with a handgun by her side. She hid the gun in her duster pocket at the sound of sirens.Arcadio came out. Brice lifted up the window and poke a hole in the screen. A quick shot at him and it will be over. They're nothing without him, Tattletale or Nachine.

"She needs to be locked up," Brice mumbled. Mrs. Anderson wouldn't have heard him, she started a full conversation with herself. A woman dress in a black blouse and jeans watched then searched the neighborhood, coming to a stop at Nachine's house. After he parked the car, he saw the same woman squeezed herself into Valerian's doorway then pulled the curtains close.Weirdo. Too many in this neighborhood. He retrieved Uncle Jace's gasoline container and matches from the car trunk that he borrowed from him before work. He gave them up as he mouthed off about his nephew 'asking for a favor all the time but doesn't return one'. Creeping along the side of Nachine's tree, he realized the day got worst, the added chaotic traffic and Jason. The rifle neighbor's place was locked down with his steel bars on his window and quiet. He doused Nachine's house with gas on the side where a bedroom's reading lamp ran. Inside the room, Zetta dog ear a page and exchanged the book for a danish and grabbed a coffee in the other hand. He planned to set fire near the room, she would call for the fire department. He soaked the bush. Then lit it, smiling as the blaze crackled and sparked."Kid shot dead in the street yesterday," Qadira's mother put her hand up to the fire. "It's good and hot. You can't burn the demons who kill him.""I'm not burning anything Mrs. Anderson," Brice said hurrying his words. Pulling her and himself out of sight from the window. Zetta wrinkled her nose. The blaze grew as Brice crawled away with Mrs. Anderson behind him.

This trifling fool is trying something, Brice thought glaring at him writing an assignment on the board then circling the words show work. Hope Jason doesn't decide to break into the closet for the receipts. He's a dedicated educator who has become a victim and criminal of the street.Brice headed out the school. He told Margret what went down before leaving. An extra hour gave him time to put a bullet in Arcadio. He left out the back way."Bye, Mr. F," Dwayne yelled from the window of the Everett Building bottom level. He waved back, speeding up his walk. Justice through Brice Frankel. The idea peace would come to the neighborhood by him had him relaxing in his car seat and putting the car on cruised control.Driving down Joy Road, he passed the Herman Garden housing project. The street life was quiet until dark. Going further down the street, he made a turn at Winthrop. He parked in front of the burnt house. He slid the Glock into the front of his pants being careful of his crotch Using his shirt, he covered the weapon."You talked a good game," said Qadira's mother standing in front of Brice's car. She marched to the back of his car and kicked the bumper. He rushed out of his driver's seat."What did you do that?" Brice asked."You tried to take my daughter from me. I'll have you arrested right along with Mrs. Sanders," she said continuing down the street heading in direction of Ellis and Greenfield.

Brice cleared his desk with a stroke of his hand, including Jason's feet. "I want you fired and jailed for embezzlement.""Give me my book back," Principal Jason whispered. "If you don't, you will die.""Nothing will happen to me.""These kids grind you away until you become numb and lifeless." Jason picked up the chalk and wrote his name on the board. "They brought the gang members into my building. The harder I fought them the more the student body saw me as the enemy and these same kids open the doors throughout the day allowing them in to harass me until I agree to the Tattle Tell gang's terms and in return the gang promise to run their business in the street. I brought peace inside the building.""What part are you talking out, your buttocks." Brice rubbed out Jason's name. "You don't own this classroom or this building; it belongs to the community. You're a liar. Man, you're pimping, point shaving on games and anything else criminal to stuff your pockets. You gave up.""Go home, Brice," Jason said. "I'm teaching your last class. You're a loser, your student saw it today, I know you won't go to the cops." Jason stood up to rewrite his name on the board, Brice cocked his fist all the way back then rammed it into Jason's neck. He had aimed for his head and missed. After he struck him, Jason recovered."You can't take-""I have the only authority here." Jason picked up an Algebra book off the floor.

Frelisa Walker

The novel One Death At A Time (work in progress) conveys a hopeful message that Detroit can overcome it's problems.​​This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.